


Holding Back

by cyevi



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Minific, One Shot, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyevi/pseuds/cyevi
Summary: Vegeta is busy training, again. But can he keep himself focused?





	Holding Back

Earth, Week 3

Hour 40 and he still wasn’t finished. It hurt. His cells hurt. The blood in his veins pumped so quickly that his muscles seemed to be roasting beneath his skin. His sweat cascaded along his chin, his brows, his neck. It pooled into his collar bones before overflowing down his chest into his soaked gi. If he didn’t stop to have a drink soon, his vision would begin to fade.

But it didn’t matter. He wanted the pain. His body refused to stop reaching for it. Just a breather before he started on the next thousand katas. Any more than that and his mind would begin to drift again. He swallowed a breath as a rivulet of sweat poured from his chin and then gasped.

He knew it was possible. He had felt Kakarot’s nascent transformation well before it happened. The realization was unpleasant to say the least. How many generations had been carefully selected to lead up to Vegeta’s existence? How many times had he personally defied death, had he sacrificed his culture, had he killed his own friends in pursuit of his birthright? How many more days would he suffer this indignity?

Mouth agape and panting hard, Vegeta curled his upper lip in a feral poise. He wanted to feel the air on his fangs. His Oozaru rumbled inside of him unable to escape and seared his retinas. “Again,” it growled.

Maybe another 40 hours would make him forget his failure for another brief moment.

\---

Earth, Week 6

It was probably well past three in the morning. That wasn’t really the problem. Vegeta was still used to being on the Galactic 38 standard hour day since his reanimation here on Earth. 

It wasn’t really a problem that he had lost count of which hundredth set of katas he was on for the day. He was well past counting anyway. Weeks of daily training in the gravity contraption the woman had gifted him let him ignore the passage of time without much consequence. 

It wasn’t really a problem that his stomach was rumbling either. While he had never trained this extensively in his life, the thrill of pushing himself into new fields of pain was just a much a drug in his veins as the other driving force for his new routine.

But it was absolutely a problem every time the woman came knocking on the door of the training chamber. 

He wasn’t sure why such a small sound was so infuriatingly distracting to him. She had the strength of a Arlian rat. In all his travels, he had no issue tuning out creatures like her. Well, not like her, exactly.

Vegeta shook his head, closing his eyes to the torrent of sweat covering his face. He crouched back down into kibadachi and waited for the training bots to reset their cycle as the gravity kicked up five more units. The pressure was crushing, like a mountain of weight on his muscles. His skin had become wet steel each time the atmosphere increased, threatening to crack his spine into failure.

Pressing his body into stillness, gasping for air, he attempted to concentrate on his next form. He glanced down at his legs. The blue body suit he had been wearing had small singes from near misses. With a disgusted grunt, Vegeta stared at the minuscule reminder of failure.

He hadn’t been fast enough under the last gravitational increase so he clearly deserved to have his suit ruined. And without warning, his mind leapt from the pressure on his body to a fractional memory of another set of legs.

–

The woman had been working underneath the control panel of the gravity chamber this morning. Or was it yesterday morning? When Vegeta walked into the unit well before dawn, the last thing he expected to see was a pair of naked legs poking out under the machinery. Instantly suspicious, he froze and watched from a distance. The legs shifted slightly as a few grunts and the sound of metal clanging chipped away at the air.

“Come ….. on!” 

With a final groan, Bulma let out a loud breath and dropped the heavy wrench on the floor. Her legs collapsed flat as she caught her breath. Sensing she was about to emerge, Vegeta quietly relocated to the top of the control panel, behind a column to continue his observation. As predicted, the woman shuffled from beneath the apparatus somewhat awkwardly before standing up.

_What the hell?_

Vegeta couldn’t look away as an unfamiliar, warm sensation crept across his skin. The woman stood in front of the panel, her face tinged with grease, her long hair curled, but not styled except for an extremely loose ponytail that reached the middle of her back. A trail of grease streaked down her bare neck, across her exceptionally tight, white tank top and stopped on the side of her hip. He wasn’t exactly sure what the utterly useless clothing was called on Earth that attempted to poorly cover her hips and groin, but it looked like it was made of arachnid thread. Even from his perch above, he could smell the woman’s sweat and his eyes followed a drop that pooled on her chin as it dropped down to the drenched shirt.

Vegeta almost stepped back as his spine and muscles stiffened at the sight of her. He took in her form completely then, probably truly looking at her for the first time with more than a passing glance since he had been stuck on this worthless planet. 

And he drank, greedily. 

Lithe, visible muscles on her arms, longer legs than he had initially thought, and a body damp from sweat and humidity. The shirt clung to the woman’s body at every curve, creeping up her flat belly, emphasizing her heft of her breasts as she caught her breath. Her eyes were closed as she stretched her arms above her head, lengthening her spine, arching her body toward the unsuspecting observer. She turned around then and leaned slightly to the side, rotating her shoulders and Vegeta was treated to a sumptuously round ass, the arachnid thread cloth spanning across her lush hips as she bent.

“That should please His Highness for a few more days,” she muttered.

The hair on the back of his neck sent a shiver down his spine to his tailbone. If he had still had his Saiyan appendage, he knew it would have clenched tightly about his waist at the sound of the honorific. Instead, his hand gripped the column and he gritted his teeth together, watching her as she left the chamber in her half-dress. 

As the woman plodded tiredly toward the door, she slowed. Vegeta refrained from turning his head in the shadows and instead watched her with predatory eyes, following her movements with rapt interest. Just at the door, she paused, tapped the control panel on the wall to close the door, turned, and pressed her back against the newly formed wall. Without warning, she slid down the door, her shirt hitching up along the metal. She settled on the ground, her ponytail cascaded over her shoulder, and she dropped her head back against the door.

Vegeta froze. _What …is that scent?_

“Oh Kami,” she moaned. Her right hand began tracing along her side, across her thigh up to her knee, then like a serpent, her fingers slithered down between her inner thighs. Bulma closed her eyes, spread her legs apart and let her fingers slip underneath the lacy hipsters. Her left hand snuck beneath her tank top to her breast, pressing it into the drenched fabric as her fingers circled toward her nipple.

Rather suddenly, Vegeta felt a prickle on his skin. Glancing away from the inexplicable woman, he looked at his skin. Without realizing it, he had allowed his energy to become unhinged. Enough was loose now that he actually had sparks of visible ki jumping around his flesh. Instantly, his face was covered in a blush as he tamped his power level back into his core. His glance shot back at the woman, who thankfully still had her eyes closed.

Vegeta bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood as he watched the woman pleasure herself, completely without restraint. Her fingers must have been inside her body now, even though the fabric obscured the specifics for his view. Her back was arched off the door and her entire body was undulating with muscular tension. She let out a rather breathy gasp, pulled her knees toward her body, and stilled.

“Prince,” she panted out just above a whisper, her body suddenly convulsing into itself.

Vegeta’s heart stopped at the sound and his eyes blinked into infrared mode subconsciously. He watched her body heat spread from the hand between her legs, shifting through her core, past her heart, into her head, and finally across her chest and down her limbs. The woman’s body flushed with waves of red and orange glow, from her groin to her head and chest several times, her body shivering, mouth panting. Letting out a silent breath of his own, Vegeta’s eyes blinked again into the chromatic spectrum to stare at the sweat and grease covered woman below him. He made no move to stop the blue haired creature as she stood slowly, turned while straightening her shirt, tapped open the door control, and left with a noticeably unsteady gait.

–

_Another 48 hours should keep my mind focused, instead of on that damned Kakarot._

Streams of sweat poured across his jaw as the gravity ticked up another 5 levels and compacted his muscles into carbon fiber. With a gasping roar, he started his next round of katas, desperate to concentrate on his own body.

**Author's Note:**

> Boy it's fun making this guy tense up! Just another tiny minific inspired by a sweating Vegeta. Some slight alterations from the original post on tumblr, just to clear things up. Enjoy!


End file.
